Wednesday 21st August.

I yearn to go. To flee. To become.
And to stop waiting, waiting, waiting
There is nothing to seek
There is no way here
The Way is a beacon
And it's been put before my feet.

When least expected
And arrogantly clueless
It was revealed to me
The rest of life pales
In to meaninglessness.

Backwards and forwards,
Shuttling,
Without a lingering smile.
There could never be an answer:
Just more needless distractions.

Then I glance outside the window
And am drawn moth like to another
Not known, never knowing
I draw a blank expression
As she scurries back
Formless as the bus motions on.

Protect a rose from our thorns
Barbed creature!
Snatching,
Greedy palms, upward,
And tearing love
To replace with tears.